


i want you to feud

by Jadie



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, alcohol mention, they just fuck that's it, this is a VERY loose grey's anatomy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadie/pseuds/Jadie
Summary: “Henrik”, he corrects softly, causing Pekka to frown a bit before nodding, “Don’t you think we’re past the last names by now?”
Relationships: Pekka Rinne/Henrik Lundqvist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	i want you to feud

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my WIPs for like 2 years and i'm still obsessed with grey's anatomy and niche pairings so maybe it's time to let it out into the world; if you got here from tunglr dot com you're uuh welcome to shoot me a message there and tell me to cut this bullshit
> 
> title is from a band of horses song & idea credits go to the og 2017 cottage crew

Pekka knows he’s screwed as soon as he answers the door: Henrik’s blinding smile is accompanied by what looks like an at least fifty-dollar bottle of wine in his right hand and a bag of groceries in the left. The plain white shirt Henrik is wearing, sleeves rolled up, the stupid fucker, makes him look ridiculously good and Pekka groans, glancing down at his own sweatpants and the wet workout towel hung around his neck. Shit. 

“Are you going to let me in or not?” he asks after what feels like a minute, waving the bottle in his hand, smirking as if he knows exactly where Pekka’s thoughts are currently trailing.  
“I, uh, yeah please do come in, I just have to, erm, I’m going to… shower”, Pekka manages to stammer before slamming the door shut behind Henrik. He doesn’t bother showing Henrik around the house, curses himself after pointing the way to the kitchen before fleeing to the safety of his bathroom. It’s such a Henrik thing to show up looking like he’s dressed for a date night in Seattle’s finest restaurant when all Pekka did was ask him for a quick consultation on a tricky case, and, to be fair, it would potentially be kind of funny if he currently wasn’t banging his head on the tiles of his shower wall, desperately trying to calm himself down. It’s is going to be a long night.

When he finally steps out of the shower stall, he has to wipe off the steam fogging up the mirror and kind of wants to slap himself. This is absolutely stupid; he thinks while poking his jawline to figure out if shaving would be reading too much into the situation. He has no intention of getting mocked if he does shave, but Henrik did make a very obvious effort to look good for this… whatever it is, Pekka isn’t exactly sure. So, he ends up hurriedly swiping the shaving cream off with a razor, then digging through a pile of clean laundry for jeans and a t-shirt after abandoning a dress shirt in a desperate effort to seem more casual. On his way back downstairs he nearly trips over himself and stops dead on his tracks when he gets to the kitchen. 

“You’re… cooking”, Pekka declares, staring at Henrik casually preparing dinner behind his kitchen counter, surrounded by half-chopped vegetables and a raw salmon. The other man lifts an eyebrow.  
“Hope you like fish, wasn’t sure between that and steak.”  
“No, it’s… fine”, Pekka still doesn’t seem to be able to form full sentences, but at least Henrik isn’t giving him smug looks anymore. Pekka walks over to the counter, carrying a folder in his hands. Henrik looks up to him.

“You have some…” the rest of Henrik’s sentence trails off as he’s reaching to wipe a drop of shaving cream off of Pekka’s cheek, fingers lingering there just long enough for it to leave a tingling sensation, and Pekka has to clear his throat to get himself to focus. There is a knowing smirk on Henrik’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs a kitchen towel and gestures towards the wine bottle; Pekka busies himself with rummaging the cabinets for glasses, and Henrik goes back to chopping onions. 

“So, this case you were talking about?” Henrik asks; Pekka seems relieved to get something else to talk about and fishes out a sheet of lab results from the file he’s been holding since he stepped into the kitchen. Henrik listens carefully, nodding here and there, as well as occasionally asking him to elaborate on something. The conversation carries itself from there, mostly work-related; Henrik flips through the case folder and mouths words to himself, Pekka finding himself oddly endeared by it. Eventually, there is a soft noise from the timer, snapping them both back into reality.

Henrik is carefully examining Pekka’s face as he’s biting into the salmon.  
“It’s good”, he admits and receives a warm smile for it; it’s almost as if he was waiting for a negative response, but Pekka chooses not to read too much into it. A glass gets refilled, the wine really is good, a comfortable relaxation sets in as they eat.

Pretty soon they’ve moved the pile of paperwork along with their glasses to the living room, Pekka being quite sure he just imagined a twinkle in Henrik’s gaze as he suggested getting more comfortable. Pekka’s glass doesn’t stay full for long, and as he’s reaching to pour what’s left of the bottle Henrik reaches to gently touch his hand. Pekka reflexively pulls his hand away and swallows visibly after glancing at him.

“Might wanna slow down there.”  
“Lundqvist. I’m fine.”  
“Henrik”, he corrects softly, causing Pekka to frown a bit before nodding, “Don’t you think we’re past the last names by now?”  
“Just not used to it, I guess”, Pekka shrugs and grabs a dictionary from the coffee table. A moment of observing, a headshake before Henrik, too, goes back to his work. It gets silent after that, apart from papers rustling and Pekka wonders if he should say anything. Henrik’s foot accidentally brushes against his ankle, sending a jolt of electricity up his body. 

“So, uh, you’re staying the night?”  
“Huh?” Henrik lifts his eyes from the article he’s holding, clearly not listening until now.  
“I mean, you’re not driving anywhere until tomorrow morning, and, well, there’s a free guest bed, um, if you want to…” Pekka immediately wishes he had stayed quiet, blushing slightly, but Henrik just hums in response, hard to read. He stares right back at Pekka, refusing to be the one to break the eye contact. All Pekka seems to be able to think any more are the months of back and forth flirting building up to… this, he guesses, Henrik has to have some sort of end-game planned; there’s something challenging in the way he looks at Pekka, it's as if he’s daring him to break his resolve, to do something, anything. The alcohol in Pekka’s system makes everything so pleasantly dizzy that for a moment he considers leaning over the short distance between them for a kiss and, well, thanks to his absolute lack of self-control he’s now pulling Henrik closer by his shirt collar, a bit short of breath.

“Took you long enough, Rinne.” That smirking piece of _shit_, Pekka thinks.  
“Oh shut the fuck up, Lundqvist.”  
“I told you, you can call me Henrik”, he chuckles. Pekka doesn’t bother replying, and instead ducks down straight into a kiss. He’s not shy with his tongue, he’s waited long enough to not have that kind of patience, and then there’s a lingering taste of Chardonnay making Pekka chase after the kiss when Henrik pulls away.  
“Bedroom? I’ll let you fuck me however you want.” Pekka is pretty sure that saying yes is going to be the worst idea he has ever had in his life but nods at the proposal nonetheless. He’s too far gone to stop now, and Henrik seems to want this just as much as he does.

“Guess I don’t have to make the guest bed, then”, he mumbles against Henrik’s neck, drawing quiet groans from the other man with his teeth.  
“Guess not.” 

Pekka stumbles a little on the stairway, causing Henrik to laugh.  
“You’re drunk.”  
“Am not”, Pekka retorts.  
“How long have you been waiting for this, hmm?” Henrik lets his voice drop as he catches Pekka on top of the stairs, the whisper brushing the back of his neck.  
“You’re one to talk as if you haven’t been all over me ever since you transferred here”, he replies and definitely isn’t going to think about how much his dick apparently likes when Henrik’s voice goes deep like that.  
“You’re not wrong there”, Henrik admits, grabbing Pekka’s wrist in order to push him against the wall in the hallway, “What took you so long to do something about it?”  
“I, uh, you see, this is literally the worst idea I’ve had in years”, Pekka groans; meanwhile Henrik pushes a thigh between his legs, clouding up his thoughts.  
“I see.”  
“Also, as much as I enjoy the thought of slamming you around and fucking you against this wall here, I don’t think my knees would thank me tomorrow, so how about you let me go and we actually move to the bedroom?” Pekka practically snarls, then bites into Henrik’s neck again, this time eliciting a proper moan out of him. He seems to agree, seeing as he voluntarily lets go of Pekka’s wrist and allows him to lead him into the master bedroom. 

“Take off your shirt”, Pekka says nonchalantly while looking through his bedside table drawers, eventually throwing a condom and lube onto his bed. He’s clearly gained back his composure from earlier.  
“Getting bossy, huh?”  
“Gonna be your actual boss one day, might as well get used to it”, Pekka smirks at him.  
“Oh, don’t be so sure about that”, Henrik walks over to him and yanks him down for a kiss; it’s sloppy, open-mouthed, and Pekka’s impatience gets him to tug the other man’s shirt out of his pants.  
“Off. Now.”  
“A please would be nice”, Henrik tilts his head to meet Pekka’s darkened gaze but starts unbuttoning nonetheless. Pekka’s quickly getting rid of his own t-shirt and jeans.  
“You know what else would be nice? You, on the bed, sooner rather than later”, Pekka snaps at him, wishing he could wipe away the smug smile off of Henrik’s face, yanking his hair experimentally. He really is running out of patience.  
“You’re getting off on being mean to me, aren’t you? Got over your nerves, huh?” Henrik laughs and drags him towards the bed, wrapping a hand around his dick.  
“Are you complaining?” Pekka climbs on Henrik’s lap, pushes him down, “I didn’t tell you to stop”, he adds, squinting his eyes; Henrik holds out his hand, gets Pekka to spit and finally goes back to stroking him.  
“Mm, no.”

“Now, are you going to keep talking back or do you want a dick up your ass?” Pekka asks with a raised eyebrow.  
“Yeah, yeah, just get on with it”, Henrik is already getting a bit breathless, his hard-on pressing against Pekka’s thigh. It’s Pekka’s turn to look smug.  
“What was that?”  
“Are you expecting me to beg?”  
“Mmhm, we’ll see what we can do about that. Spread your legs for me, will you?” Pekka smiles and reaches for the lube.  
“Yeah, yeah, hurry up, I know the drill”, Henrik rolls his eyes but obeys regardless.  
“Oh, you’re in a hurry to get somewhere?”  
“Don’t make this into a game, you know as well as I do that we’ve both waited long enough”, he replies simply. For a moment Pekka isn’t sure whether he’d be more pleased to prove him wrong or to just keep going, needy and fast. He doesn’t waste time warming up the lube he squeezes into his hand, immediately brings it to Henrik’s hole. He draws out a not-so-quiet moan by gently pressing a thumb against his rim. He takes a moment to find a good angle before pushing his forefinger in.  
“You don’t- you don’t have to… you can go faster”, Henrik urges Pekka on, pleased to get another finger inside in response.  
“Not your first time at the rodeo, eh?” Pekka scissors his fingers lazily and lays a hand on the other man’s chest.  
“Will you please shut up and fuck me already?” Henrik sounds bored, although Pekka notes the tiny beads of sweat and slight flush around his neck. A moment of consideration leads to a smug smile.  
“Get on your hands and knees, please”, Pekka hums, makes it an order despite the apparent politeness.  
“God, I’ve been thinking about having you like this, pushing back against me, all needy…” Pekka trails off as he lines himself up behind Henrik, slowly pressing the tip of his dick inside him.  
“Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself--” Henrik starts out but ends the sentence in a pile of Swedish curse words, unsure of what he was trying to express to begin with. When Pekka finally bottoms out he can’t stop a filthy moan escaping his mouth; pulling almost completely out just to thrust back in without any resemblance of a pace, hands pressing hips, Henrik groaning under him, it all makes Pekka want to sink his teeth into the toned skin of Henrik’s shoulder and he does, draws out a breathless “yes, fuck, please” from him. Still pleasantly buzzed from the wine, Pekka tries to keep up with the dirty talk but loses his train of thought somewhere between the obscene noises of skin slapping against skin and Henrik arching his back, looking like he’s been carved out of marble. An incoherent string of pleas, blinding pleasure and Pekka comes almost embarrassingly hard, Henrik not too far behind him. A minute passes by, both focused on trying to catch their breath. One of them grabs Pekka’s discarded t-shirt from the floor to wipe off the worst of the mess.  
“Jesus fuck…” Pekka eventually groans as he rolls over to lie down on the other side of the bed, “we’re definitely doing that again.”  
“Oh, don’t worry, next time I’ll have you on your knees before you know it”, Henrik grins before shuffling around to pull up the blanket from under them.


End file.
